


The (Un)Banquet

by fieryrondo



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2016-2017 ISU Grand Prix Final, Adam goes clubbing, Crack, Cuddling, Gen, Javi tries to get some, M/M, Nathan is the new kid, Patrick Chan throwing shade, Patrick's potty mouth, Pooh, Shoma being awesome, Yuzu being adorable, figure skating, french event planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8826712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryrondo/pseuds/fieryrondo
Summary: Crack! AU Post 2016-17 Grand Prix Final in Marseille, France.At every GPF banquet, the boys have their 4 C-Fest tradition: “Congratulate, Commiserate, Complain and Cry”. Only this year in Marseille, there’s no banquet, so the boys make do with what they have.(Or, in which Patrick throws shade at the French Federation, Javier fails to get in Yuzuru's pants, Yuzuru is still looking for his beloved Japanese flag, and Nathan is ridiculously proud of his plastic GPF medal).With a special guest appearance from Hanyu's Pooh.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Figure skating pulled me out of my fanfiction hibernation. Completely crack and not to be taken seriously as these characters bear no resemblance to their real-life counterparts. This is a work of complete and self-indulgent fiction.
> 
> Italicized- Japanese speech (mostly between Yuzu & Shoma)  
> Regular- English

By the time Yuzuru steps into the room, with a bedraggled Shoma and a star-struck Nathan in tow, Javier’s already contemplating getting a second sangria. Yuzuru’s face—normally affable, fresh-cheeked and all around adorable—in the absence of the press and the blinding flash of cameras, was stormy, dark and brooding.

 

Cute in a sexy way, Javier supposes, but he keeps that thought to himself. A brooding Yuzuru might be hot, but was far less inclined to cuddling.

 

“ _Querido_ ,” Javier smiles and puts down his drink to free up his arms for a hug. “Congratulations for placing first tonight.”

 

Yuzuru makes a face, his nose scrunched up as cute as a kitten. However, he steps into the hug. A good sign. Javier wraps his arms in a tighter embrace, pressing the Japanese man close to his torso. Yuzuru sighs and nestles closer, leaning in towards Javier’s mouth—

 

“Um, wow, um, are we interrupting? Maybe we should leave?”

 

Javier groans when Yuzuru halts in his movements and pulls away.

 

“No, no, not interrupting,” Yuzuru quickly says, brushing his bangs to straighten them before entering his accommodating host mode. “Please, sit down. Be comfortable.” He turns to Shoma. “ _I think we need more chairs—there are only four here. Who else is coming?_ ”

 

“ _Rippon-senshu said he would be a bit late—he had a party to go to._ ” Shoma grimaces. “ _Or at least I think it was a party. My English is not good._ Clubbing _means party, not hitting with sticks like my Japanese-English dictionary says, right?”_

Yuzuru sighs, hands on his hips, which are cocked at an angle that Javier very much appreciates. _“What about Patrick?”_

Javier perks up in recognition of the name.

 

“You guys looking for Patrick? He’s already here. Dozed off a bit. Poor guy.” He nudges the floor with a toe. An answering groan.

 

Yuzuru’s lips purse in disapproval. It’s disarmingly cute and Javier can’t stop staring.

 

“Bad manners to sleep on floor.”

 

“Not to mention it’s bad for the back.” Javier agrees.

 

“Screw my back, it’s shitty anyway.” But Patrick revives and slinks upwards into a vacant chair. He blinks and sees the newly arrived and gestures around in half-hearted welcome. “Hey, the party’s here. Sit right down, boys, and let’s get this shindig started. We’ll be roughing it tonight but it’ll be okay. No banquet for us, so who gives a damn.”

 

“There’s a banquet?” Nathan asked, deciding to ignore the slurred profanity Patrick was spewing out. Just like his skating, Patrick’s speech had a discernable elegance even when messy. Nathan slides into the chair next to Patrick’s, while Shoma takes the one on his left. Meanwhile, Javier pulls Yuzuru into his lap—the GPF winner only puts up a token protest. No one bats an eyelash and Nathan, after inwardly cooing at the sheer adorableness of the sight, decides not to either, his mind preoccupied with Patrick’s remark as his phone was already pulling up the GPF itinerary. “Why weren’t we invited?”

 

Patrick chuckles bitterly and downs his brandy in two gulps. Much to the teenager’s confusion, he doesn’t elaborate.

 

Javier, taking pity, steps in to explain.

 

“It’s your first GPF, right? Usually, at the end of the GPF, they host a banquet for all the skaters.”

 

“Usually?”

 

“They skip this year,” Yuzuru says and hastens to translate for Shoma.

 

“Why?”

 

Patrick cackles from his chair, seriously creeping Nathan out and mumbles something suspiciously like, “Fucking cheapskates.”

 

“No money this year,” Javier continues. “This is your first GPF, so you might not have noticed, but the French Federation lost a huge sponsor so they had to cut down on costs. So things like the banquet, they cancelled because they couldn’t afford it.”

 

Patrick hiccup-laughs. “Enjoy your cardboard medals, boys.”

 

Yuzuru loses his cool. “Take it back, Patrick. No sore losing.”

 

“ _Plaas—tic_ ,” Shoma defends, cradling the medal around his neck like a newborn babe.

 

“Like that’s so much of an improvement. I’ve seen kiddie ice hockey tournaments get better looking medals. I dare you to tell me those trinkets around your necks look good."

 

Personally, Nathan thought the medals were kind of cool. It was easily the biggest medal he had ever won, even if it was plastic. But no one else said anything so Patrick only laughed.

 

“They are rather light this year, aren’t they?” Javier comments when Yuzuru cranes his neck closer to Javier for the Spaniard to inspect the gold medal around his neck. “I remember the ones from Barcelona last year were heavier. Made in China…that’s quality, all right.” A beat. “No offense, Nathan.”

 

“None taken,” Nathan automatically says, wondering why he had anything to do with it. It wasn’t as if the medals were made in the USA, and he had never even been to China anyway.

 

“How medal look is not important,” Yuzuru says as he takes the medal back. Nathan notices that the man does not put the medal back on, but instead tucks it away lovingly in the inside pocket of his Team Japan jacket. “Medal meaning more important.”

 

Patrick's disdain ratchets up another ten levels.

 

“Puh-lease. Don't give us that PC bullshit. There are no cameras, no reporters, no crazy Russian fangirls, nothing. For once, we have 100% privacy. Nothing goes beyond these walls. You can be honest, Yuzuru. It was the worst GPF we’ve ever been to, probably the worst GPF ever organized in the history of the GPF, maybe even in the history of ice-skating. And what do you have to show for it? Cheapy dollar store medals, the ugliest flowers that would put real bouquets to shame, the tiniest podiums to grace an international figure skating event—”

 

 _“The podiums were pretty wobbly_ ,” Shoma admits. Yuzuru inclines slightly his head in agreement but does not reply.

 

“—more empty seats than people—I know no one in Europe cares about figure skating, but this is the friggin’ Grand Prix Final, an international competition second only to the Olympics and Worlds and where do they decide to host it? In this tiny-ass rink with the hardest seats, not to mention with the shittiest ice I have ever skated in my entire career. And I've been doing this for a long time.”

 

“You always do this, every year. We skip already to third C, ‘Complain?’” Yuzuru complains. “Start over, we must do this properly.”

 

Nathan, who had been diligently taking notes, stops in his tracks.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“This is Four ‘C’s’ GPF Men discussion night,” Yuzuru declares. “Is GPF Senior Men tradition.”

 

“Started by yours truly,” Javier chimes in with a wink. “We figured it would be a good way for us all to just sit together, have a few good drinks and wind down after the stress of the GPF. To structure the meetings, we go over the 4 C’s.”

 

“The 4 C’s? You mean Four Continents—?”

 

“Congratulate, Commiserate, Complain and Cry,” Yuzuru rattles off the list with astonishing fluency. He glares at Patrick, who’s pouring himself another gobletful of Bourdeux. “Some like to go complain first.”

 

“God, cut me some slack. I just had the shittiest free skate of my career,” Patrick grouses and makes a face. “What I wouldn’t give for some ice wine…”

 

Yuzuru, ever the perfect host, hands Patrick a bottle of dry Reisling, the closest thing they have to ice wine. He gestures at the impressive array of beverages on the coffee table, inviting both Shoma and Nathan.

 

“What do you like?”

 

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Nathan flushes red. “Besides, I’m underage…”

 

Shoma selects a Coke. It’s the special edition holiday bottle, and he takes quiet satisfaction in pulling the tab and turning the label into a bow.

 

“Ohh, that’s neat,” Nathan manages to say and Yuzuru hands the teen another ribbon Coke.

 

“Javi says drinking party but only him and Patrick drink,” Yuzuru says, helping himself to some Perrier.

 

“You’re old enough to drink now, right Yuzu?”

 

“Japan majority age is 20, but I choose not to drink,” Yuzuru says. “I like _sake_ but not good for me.”

 

“He has trouble holding his liquor,” Javier smiles indulgently, imagining how adorable a drunk Yuzu would be. Probably right up there with sleepy Yuzu with Pooh.

 

“Well, you can’t win ‘em all.” The Riesling seems to have done the Canadian figure skater some good. Patrick sits up straighter in his chair, his flagging strength renewed. “Okay, first C. Congrats to Yuzuru for coming in first. 4 GPF back-to-back wins, you must be feeling quite the man tonight.”

 

“I am man every night,” Yuzuru says, but is too polite to not accept Patrick’s somewhat gracious sentiments. “But thank you. Congratulations to Shoma and Nathan, for their good skating result.”

 

“Came roaring back in the free skate, didn’t you?” Javier’s smile fades a little as he recalls his abysmal performance and the lost podium. “That was some fantastic skating, you two. You should be very proud. I only wish I had done half as well.”

 

“You did your best, Javi.”

 

“No, I didn’t, _corazón_ , but thanks for trying to make me feel better.” Javi definitely appreciates the comfort hug. It helps ease some of the aches from falling. “I wish I had landed the second triple axel. It was never an issue before. I don’t know what went wrong. Everything felt off.”

 

“It’s okay, everyone fell at some point,” Nathan chimes in and looks slightly cheered at the change in perspective. “No one skated perfectly but we survived.”

 

Unfortunately, not everyone, except for perhaps Shoma, seemed to share his optimism.

 

“It’s Sochi all over again.” Yuzuru grumbles, one hand tugging at Javi’s shirt collar with absentminded frustration and the other hand running fingers through Javi’s hair. (Javi did not mind this one bit.) “I should not be making mistake. Quad-sal-triple-toe combo should not be issue, the single lutz, I can’t even—!”

 

“Could I get some commiseration before we jump back to complaining?” Patrick asks. “At least, none of you fell three times during your free skate and ended up with a -4.00 deduction. God, that was so embarrassing. I wanted to just curl up and die in a corner. Hang up my skates, fade into inevitable obscurity. Maybe go buy a vineyard and just become a ice-wine making reclusive genius or something.”

 

“You can’t retire!” Nathan gasps, looking horrified. “You’re still young. You’ve got so much ahead of you!”

 

“That’s sweet of you, kid, but I’m already 25, which is like 65 in skater years. I hate to admit it, but I’m an old man. I might look fabulous, but I’m beginning to feel the age in my soul.” Patrick sighs into his chair, sixty-five years worth of figure skating weariness hanging from his brow. “166.99? I can’t remember the last time I scored so low…”

 

“ _2016 Finlandia Trophy,_ ” Shoma remarks after listening to Yuzuru. Yuzuru relays his comment to Patrick, who does not look pleased by the reminder.

 

“My bruises certainly feel it—I swear the horrible ice was a French conspiracy to sabotage us. We’re lucky we didn’t get injured.”

 

“Is your own fault you cannot adjust to ice,” Yuzuru says. “Maybe ice is not perfect, but as skater, we must adjust. Audience expect perfect performance, we must not disappoint.”

 

Patrick huffs, wide-eyed and incredulous.

 

“Only you, Yuzuru, would be totally fine with sloshing your blades out in water. They call them _ice_ skates for a reason. Actually, why am I surprised? I think you’d welcome the challenge, given the masochist you are, Mr. Quad Axel.”

 

Yuzuru did not fully understand Patrick’s words, but he got the general gist from the Canadian’s condescending tone.

 

“Is Quad Axel not every skater’s dream?” He looks around for affirmation.

 

Silence. Nathan is ashamed to admit that he, too, looked away. Maybe if he ever got triple axel under control…but for now, Yuzuru seemed light-years ahead of them all.

 

“It’s a great dream, Yuzu,” Javier says, breaking the silence as a show of support. “But no, for now, I think it’s just yours.”

 

Yuzuru looks lonely and lost for a moment as he digests this new revelation. Nathan’s heart reaches out for him.

 

“Give me a few more years, Yuzuru. I’ll try to meet you there for the quad axel.”

 

Yuzu nods and eyes Javier. Javier gulps.

 

“Quad axel is a bit beyond me, Yuzu, but we’ll always have our quad battles, right?”

 

“Quad loop with me?” Yuzuru asks, looking hopeful.

 

Javier folds.

 

“Sure," he says and tries not to think about the injuries to come.

 

Patrick just shakes his head.

 

“Go ahead and break yourselves on that ice, then. Ambition’s great and all, but it isn’t worth a lick if you end up crippled from drippy ice.”

 

“The girls skated just fine,” Yuzuru chides. “Do not blame ice for bad skill.”

 

Patrick snorts.

 

“Do you see the ladies doing any quads or triple axels?”

 

“Anyways,” Javier interrupts, sensing the unpleasant atmosphere and decides an intervention is in order. It was not healthy to linger too long on the third C, complaining, which seemed to happen every time they did this. Venting was only healthy in moderate doses. “I think we should wrap up complaining now. We all agree the ice was not great.” Patrick gives him the wry look. “Okay, the ice sucked balls, but there was nothing that could be done short of moving the venue. We all did our best with what we had and have gained valuable learning experiences from this event that we can carry with us to the second half of the season.”

 

“Which basically means, Yuzuru, Javi’s going to destroy you at Worlds,” Patrick smirks.

 

“Shut up, Patrick.” Javier snaps. He reaches for Yuzuru for a reassuring touch, but Yuzuru has already left his lap—leaving it strangely cold—and is listening intently to Shoma.

 

“What’s Shoma got to say?”

 

“Javi, I know you said complaining is done, but Shoma-kun bring up important point,” Yuzuru finally says after the Japanese teen has finished. “More important than bad ice, bad medal, or bad flower.”

 

(“HA!” Patrick pumps a remarkably spry fist pump in triumph. “You admit it too!”)

 

“The wobbly podiums?” Nathan ventured a guess, recalling how fast his heart jumped when the podium he was standing on suddenly moved. In retrospect, his sky-high respect for Yuzuru Hanyu broke the atmosphere as he recalled the gold medalist had actually jumped onto the podium.

 

Shoma grins shyly. Yuzuru smiles.

 

“Not the podium, though Shoma-kun agrees with you.” Yuzuru faces them all, with the familiar gaze of absolute soul-deep intensity. Patrick shivers. Javier swoons a little. “The flags.”

 

“What about them?” Nathan wonders.

 

Patrick loses it as he remembers. “The look on your face, when you looked around and—god, that was _funny._ ”

 

Yuzuru presses his lips together and frowns deeply.

 

“Flag not laughing matter. It is very serious, very important. The flag is not just flag, it is our people, our dream. We all have dream, we all love to skate, it is what we do, why we are here, to skate for our people, our country, because for people back home who work hard to rebuild and live, and we always remember we are lucky and must honor and represent them. I can’t belief—I cannot believe they forget such important thing.”

 

“It was tacky,” Javier agrees, understanding the source of his partner’s distress. “And disrespectful. The least they could have done was to get a Japanese flag.”

 

“Maybe it wasn’t in their budget,” Patrick chortles at the audacity.

 

“They could ask!” Yuzuru waves his hands around, gesticulating wildly at an imagined audience. “Any one, the audience, they should ask! If forget Japanese flag, they could ask. We can borrow. So many fans with flags, if they ask, they happy to help. If they only—” Yuzuru’s voice chokes and to everyone’s alarm, he begins to cry.

 

“There, there, _querido_ , come here, it’s okay.” Javier wraps his arms around Yuzuru’s thin frame in a big comforting hug, murmuring sweet things in his ear as he reached into Yuzu’s duffel to pull out Pooh.

 

“Not everyone cares about the GPF as much as we do,” Patrick says, suddenly contrite. “It’s sad, but true. We work our asses off, we _fall_ on our asses hour after hour on the ice, just so we can hope to get that perfect, clean performance everyone expects us to have. Suddenly, skating for fun becomes hard. You aren’t just skating for yourself, you’re skating for your nation, the world. There is that expectation, that hurdle to overcome. And it only gets worse when you reach that elite level.” The GPF veteran addresses both Nathan and Shoma. “You two are still young so you haven’t felt that weight yet. It’s nice being a dark horse contender, without that expectation to be perfect. Enjoy it while you can.” And he polishes off the rest of the glass.

 

“Wow, that was so deep. And dark. And kind of depressing,” Nathan marvels.

 

Shoma grunts, having lost interest in the conversation after Yuzuru stopped translating.

 

“ _This would be more interesting if I could actually understand what everyone is saying._ ” He whips out his phone and taps the screen. His eyes widen. “ _Metamon???”_

“Hey, what you got there?” Nathan leans closer to see what had piqued the bronze medalist’s attention. “Oh, wow, a _Ditto?_ Those are really rare! I couldn’t even hatch one from a 10K egg!”

 

“ _Metamon_ ,” Shoma insists and upon capturing the pink Pokemon, jumps up in delight. “ _Yosh!! I got it!_ ”

 

“That’s great, Shoma, I’m so happy for you!”

 

There is a pounding on the door. Yuzuru, who was cuddling Pooh, immediately leaps up from the Spaniard’s lap (again).

 

“Who is at door?!” He glares at Javier. "Javi--!"

 

“I swear, it wasn’t me!” Javier yelps, shrinking away. "I didn't tell a soul. Not even the cute ones."

 

"I thought you tell me I was only cute one?"

 

Yuzuru pouts so strongly that everyone's hearts in the room simultaneously accelerate like they had just landed quad jump combos (except for Patrick who was just too Canadian cool to be affected). Shoma discreetly fans himself while Javier repeatedly confirms Yuzuru's place in his heart like a dying man's prayer.

“I thought you guys took extra measures to make sure that we weren’t followed!” Patrick hisses, immediately diving for the drinks and frantically shoving them under the seat. “Shit, if the press catches wind of this—and you two are still minors—”

 

The dawning look of realization crosses all of their faces (including Shoma’s, once Yuzuru explains in rapid Japanese), they all scramble to stuff the alcoholic beverages out of sight.

 

“Hey, why are you putting them all in my duffel bag?” Patrick protests, though not exactly complaining.

 

“Because you’re Canadian,” Javier says.

 

“What? We’re no where as bad as the Spanish!”

 

Javier shrugs.

 

“No, leave the Coke and the ramune and juice,” Yuzuru instructs Shoma and Nathan. “And the hard…lemonade? What is hard lemonade?”

 

“Uh, you should probably hide that, Yuzu,” Nathan grabs the bottle and stuffs it in the nearest bag, which, thanks to Shoma’s stealthy moves, happens to be Patrick’s.

 

“Hey!”

 

More knocking, this time more insistent.

 

Yuzuru’s impeccable manners seize control before he could stifle them.

 

“Coming!” He reaches for the door.

 

“No, wait, Yuzu—” Javier protests as he and Patrick vainly attempt to squeeze a particularly stout gin bottle into Patrick’s bursting duffel.

 

“Hiiii guys!!! The party’s over already?”

 

“Oh, thank God, it’s just Adam.” Patrick nearly keels over in relief.

 

“’Just’ Adam? I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted.” The 27-year-old American figure skater flashes a smile as he enters the room with an armful of bags. Every inch of his arms seemed to be pockmarked with either sparkles or lipstick marks. He was wearing a full on mesh shirt and to everyone’s relief, no traces of his spray tan remained. “I was heading over here for our get-together but got lost on the way. A very nice Frenchman with the most glorious glutes found me and gave me directions, only they were directions to another nightclub, which was really fun, they really know how to dance here in France!”

 

“Is dance French for tattooed your body with hickies?” Patrick asks, looking absolutely bewildered.

 

“You are sooo funny, Patrick. These aren’t hickies, they’re kisses! Once I explained that I needed directions to the restaurant, they took me to a bakery and the girls there were so, so sweet, they wanted to take pictures and plaster me with kisses…guess it’s a French thing to do to foreigners…it’s a long story that’s frankly not very interesting but they finally gave me the right directions and here I am.”

 

Adam hefts the large bag and pulls out a stick of bread.

 

“Anyone want a baguette?”


End file.
